The Heiress and the Hunter
by LifeEqualsMusic
Summary: It had to be hidden. She was Winter Schnee, a high-born Atlesian specialist. And him? He was a drunk, a brawler, an infuriatingly intriguing man. Yes, it had to be kept secret. Winter/Qrow


**Yes, I've jumped on the Qrow/Winter train, because these two need to hurry up and just do it already. All aboard!**

* * *

'I don't have time for your immature games, Qrow.' Winter snapped at the dark-haired man smirking at them.

'Wait, you two know each other?' Weiss' confused tone was not lost on Winter, but the older Schnee ignored her, remaining silent as Qrow continued to hurl insults at her.

'You Atlas specialists think you're _so_ special,' he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

'It's in the title,' Winter hissed, her voice cold and her eyes narrowed. The veteran huntsman ignored her jab.

'Well, you know what you _really_ are?' His tone was questioning, but Winter knew he wouldn't wait for a reply. 'You're a bunch of sellouts. Just like your boss.' Outrage ripped through her body, but she forced herself to stay calm.

'I'm not sure what you _think_ you're implying,' she spat, 'but I've heard enough.' To her immense frustration, her threat rolled easily off of Qrow's back.

'Oh, I heard too. I heard 'ole Ironwood's finally turned his back on Ozpin.' His tone was light, but his gaze was hard. Weiss cocked her head, missing the severity of his words.

'Ozpin?' Winter threw an arm out and moved her back, stepping in front of her.

'Weiss, it's time for you to go.' Her sister let out a noise of indignation, but still, Winter kept her eyes locked on Qrow's. If he didn't back down, this would end in an altercation, and she didn't need Weiss to get into the middle of it.

'Listen to big sister, Weiss,' he said mockingly, 'she'll protect you.' Winter's hand twitched toward her weapon of its own accord. 'Just like Atlas is gonna protect all of us, eh?'

'If you won't hold your tongue,' she growled as she drew her sword, ' then I will _gladly_ remove it for you.' Qrow smirked, as if he knew she was making an empty threat.

'All right then,' he said, smirking as he raked his hair back, 'come take it.' That was all the encouragement Winter needed to rush him, her concern for Weiss' safety suddenly forgotten. She lashed out at him several times, and he maddeningly dodged each attack, moving just out of her reach each time. Proper form was thrown away as she lunged, again and again, until finally, her blade connected. The sharp sound of metal on metal rang out, and everyone fell silent.

Qrow reached his hand to his back, drawing his enormous sword, and nudging the flat of the blade against hers with a grin. Their eyes locked, blue glaring, red teasing. He'd always known exactly which buttons of hers to press to rile her up, and no matter what she tried, he always seemed untouchable.

 _'It's not too late to back out, Schnee,'_ said the red with a lighthearted twinkle. The blue narrowed.

 _'Not on your life, Branwen,'_ the blue replied icily, narrowing as proper form was once again taken.

He knocked her blade to the side and lunged forward, forcing her to retreat hastily, his swings passing over her harmlessly.

This wasn't the first time the two of them had fought, and it wouldn't be the last. If she were a woman to believe in such things, she'd say that their fates were entwined, that they were _destined_ to meet, again and again. The rationality in her, however, would always discard that theory, opting instead for more logical answers. Their lines of work would of course cause them to interact, and now that Weiss and Branwen's niece were on the same team (by some cruel twist), it would make sense that they would cross paths every now and then.

That didn't, however, explain the intimacy.

Even through her concentration, she couldn't help but admire the way he moved; the way his lean muscles hefted that huge sword as if it was a rapier, or how his eyes sparkled with determination when he blocked her stabs and slashes. They had attracted a large group on onlookers, and she allowed herself a tiny smile.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that the two hardened fighters they were watching had spent countless nights together, sparring not with weapons, but with their bodies. If only they knew that however fierce he could be during a match, he was equally gentle when they were alone.

So yes, they bickered, and they fought, and that was what they showed to the public. They had to. She was an heiress and a subordinate of Ironwood, and he was... He was Qrow. A drunk, a fighter, a whirlwind of sarcasm and teasing. Their 'relationship', whatever it was, needed to be hidden, kept so private that even the two involved weren't sure how to describe it.

Winter leaned back suddenly, the fingertips of her off hand nearly grazing the cobblestone as she dodged a particularly menacing swing from Qrow. Regardless of their feelings toward one another- whatever they may be- they had never held back during a fight.

The second the blade cleared her, she lashed out with her foot, her boot catching him full on in the jaw. His eyes glittered dangerously, as if the kick she'd given him was little more than a caress, and he dashed for her again, his sword raised above his head. The weapon caught nothing but pavement, its opponent long gone.

Winter scrambled up the stone arches and sprinted along theirs tops, dodging shots from Qrow every few steps. She glanced to the side and saw him across from her, his maddening smirk still in place. She sidestepped one final shot, concealing herself in the cloud of debris and moving a few paces away from where he'd seen her last. Taking a deep breath, she cast a glyph and launched herself towards him, separating her sword as he readied his own.

They collided with the force of a dust train, Winter's momentum propelling them through the air. She felt Qrow's arm lift up instinctively to wrap around her as they fell, and she threw up a glyph to slow their descent. They slammed into the ground and separated, rolling away from each other. She noticed the crater they'd made in the cobblestone and turned to throw a glare at him, only to find that he was now halfway down the bridge, a long gouge in the pavement where he'd used his blade to halt himself.

The heiress frowned and cast another glyph, summoning dozens of icy Nevermores, who swirled around the older Hunter angrily. He swatted them away savagely, reducing them to snow in an instant. A blast hit her suddenly, knocking her back and disrupting her concentration. She straightened up and an enormous glyph appeared behind her, ready to launch her towards him.

Qrow narrowed his eyes as his sword began to fragment, the sections bending upwards until- until they stopped. The pieces snapped back together as he slung it onto his back, the malice in his eyes disappearing, and an easy smile lighting up his features.

' _Come here, Schnee,'_ his eyes said, ' _come and get me.'_ The specialist sprang forward, her blade aimed directly at his throat, ready to end it, and then-

'Schnee!' Ironwood's sharp voice stopped her on a dime, the tip of her sabre mere centimetres from Branwen's Adam's apple.

' _You set me up,'_ the blue accused, while the red laughed.

' _You love it.'_

* * *

 **Happy Winter Hiatus, everybody!  
**


End file.
